Tom came into the room. Randy made him wait before acknowledging his presence. "What is it?" he finally asked.
"Sir, there's a reporter on the phone."
"I've already told you," Randy snarled, "no reporters. I'm sick of them."
"Yes Sir, but this one's from Sports Illustrated." It was a dream of Randy's to be on the cover of the magazine he'd grown up reading, and he'd been ecstatic when the magazine contacted him a few weeks ago for an interview. Every idol he'd ever had had graced the cover at one time. Oh, he acted like it was no big thing, but the truth was it was almost as big a deal to him as when he'd beaten the old world's record for rushing yards.
Randy jumped up from his chair. "Why didn't you say that to begin with?" he said through gritted teeth.
"Well I tried to," Tome said. Randy snapped his foot out and hit Tom's head like he was kicking a football. He was a running back on the team, but he was a pretty good kicker too.
"Hello, this is Randy Wolfe," he spoke into the receiver. His voice was soft and calm.
"Hi Mr. Wolfe, this Brady Williams. I know we've got the interview lined up for next week, but we thought we'd do a sort of pre-cover first, with you and Mr. Wellborn. Then follow it up with an issue for each of you after he beats your record. I wondered if we could arrange a short phone interview for tomorrow. Shouldn't take more than 10 minutes."
Randy listened to all this quietly... gracefully, and when Brady Williams had finished talking, Randy agreed to whatever interview they liked. Then he hung up and threw the phone across the room.
"Tom!" he howled.
Tom was there in a second. "Yes Sir?"
"Things have gotten too far out of hand. We're moving on my plan sooner than expected." He looked at Kristin's picture on the internet. Derrick was too much in love for his own good. If he broke Randy's record, Randy would have no choice but to break something of his too.
***
The sun was shining when Kristin Walker stepped out from Derrick Wellborn's penthouse apartment building and put on sunglasses she pulled from her pocket. She went to the corner newsstand, which was quickly becoming something of a novelty—most people these days got their news from the internet—and bought a paper. The front page showed a really bad picture of her in a really good dress, which had, unfortunately, been splattered with greasy brown meat juice when her mom threw a steak at her.
The evening couldn't have gone more wrong. But, that wasn't the thing Kristin cared about right now. It was the caption under their picture.
Derrick Wellborn and fiancée Kristin Walker...
Her heart thrilled at the title. Fiancée. It was like an aphrodisiac to her. She felt the heat start in her feet and creep towards her chest. It was like she was glowing on the inside. She walked towards her own apartment, in dire need of a change of clothes. Derrick had given her a shirt of his to put on over her dress, and she was pleased to find that even with her full frame it was much too big for her. Her breasts were almost nonexistent in the soft cotton. But it also made her look like a pillowcase.
She paused beside a coffee shop, thinking maybe she'd pick up a latte and croissant to take home with her. Derrick had offered to make her breakfast, but she'd still been too worked up over the brawl between their parents. Now, however, out in the sunlight, things felt better. She didn't care if her family hated his. They wouldn't be the first married couple to have families who hated each other.
She held her hand out to a ray of sun that streamed towards her. Her ring shined just as much now as it did when Derrick slipped it on her finger last night. She was glad. She'd been worried the ketchup bottle Derrick's father emptied on her might have tarnished it. To be fair, the ketchup had been meant for her father.
"Look Mommy," a little boy said, pointing towards Kristin. For a moment, Kristin thought the kid had recognized her from the news, but then he said, "It's him!"
Kristin turned to look where the kid was pointing and saw Randy Wolfe standing behind her. She was surprised to see him. He smiled at her, his teeth gleaming almost as much as her diamond ring. She smiled back, feeling suddenly uneasy. She watched the little boy run up to him, arms outstretched, holding a pen and paper. Randy smiled, but it seemed false. He signed the kid's paper, but his eyes never left her.
Kristin started walking, wanting to get away from him. When she looked behind her, Randy was following.
Don't be silly. He's in town for the game. It's in a few days. He just arrived a little early. He's taking a walk. It's nice outside.
But something didn't feel right. She picked up her pace. Randy picked up his. Kristin started running. A crack in the sidewalk caught the heels she still wore from last night and she tripped and went sprawling.
Heavy footsteps echoed behind her. Kristin's heard thudded against her chest. Randy Wolfe stood above her. The sun blinded her when she tried to look at him. All she could see was his hand, stretching towards her. He took hold of her and picked her up off the ground, then handed Kristin her purse.
"Oh, thank you," she said.
"No problem," said Randy, and kept walking.
Chapter 11
Kristin reread the letter her mother and father had both signed. Not an email, an actual letter. Express delivery. Kristin couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten an actual letter in the mail. And it was so formal, like it had been sent by a bank examiner rather than her parents.
To: Kristin Walker
From: Carol and Tim Walker,
Your father and I would like to ask you, one last time, to discontinue your association with Derrick Wellborn. You know our reasons. Please understand that at this point, if you do not comply with our wishes, we will have no choice but to disavow you as our daughter. You will no longer exist to us.
We will always love you, but we will love you in memory only. If you choose to go your own way on this matter, we will mourn you as we would mourn the passing of someone we once loved. From that point on, you will be dead to us.
Sincerely,
Carol and Tim Walker
"Christ that's harsh," Derrick said, handing it back to her.
She sat on his floor with her legs crossed. It had been two days since the restaurant incident. Coach had chewed them both out about that, then congratulated them on their engagement. The initial charges had been dropped, as Derrick had paid for any damages—and more—incurred during the brawl.
"Have you heard from your parents?" she asked, hoping for better news. If his could come around, maybe hers would too.
Derrick sighed. "Yeah, I have. It's not much better though."
He grabbed his cell phone off the table and played his parents' voicemail on speaker phone:
"Derrick," heavy sob, "this is the woman that used to be your mother." Another heavy sob. "I just want you to know that I love you, son, but your father and I can't watch you ruin your life." Here Derrick's mom burst into tears and became completely incoherent. His father took over. "Do you see what you've done? You've made your mother hysterical. HYSTERICAL! Don't fuck your life up over some hunter floozy. If you can't stay away from her, then stay away from us." His mother burst into even louder sobs and there was a click.
"Wow," Kristin said. "That's some kind of a guilt trip, huh?"
"Yep."
"Did it work?"
"Yep."
She laughed and put her hand over her face. "Oh my God, what are we gonna do?"
"I don't think there's anything we can do."
Derrick took her hand in his. It reminded her of that last time they were together when they were 15 and he'd taken her hand to warm it. The air at the beach had been cold, and her hands were like ice cubes. Derrick had taken them in his, kissed them, and then kissed her. It had been their first real kiss. And then he'd disappeared from her life for over a decade.
"Let's fly to Vegas and get married," Derrick said.
Kristin started laughing. "You're not serious."
"The hell I'm not." He watched as her hair swung over
her shoulders when she spun her head towards him. He liked the way it whipped around like a red halo. The buzz they'd felt that night at the playground still hovered in the air. It was all around them, like an electric force that held them together in their own private universe.
Kristin stopped laughing and stared at him. "You are serious." She gulped for breath, a fish out of water. "But... the game... the-the... parents..."
Derrick shrugged. "Screw them. You know what I realized the other night? That whatever their problems are, they're just that—their problems. I love you. I don't ever want to lose you again."
"But the game is tomorrow!"
Derrick heaved a sigh of frustration then shot her his award winning smile—the charmer he used to get on all the magazine covers. One day, its effect on her might wear off, but he didn't think that day was here yet.
"It's early. Vegas isn't far. We can make it back for the game."
Kristin stared at him, disbelieving. She looked at her watch. He was right. It was early. Only noon.
"I don't know..."
"Waiting on someone better?" he teased.
"No..." She smiled. "First one to the airport has to pay for the wedding."
"You're on."
***
Two hours next to each other on an airplane was almost impossible to handle. As close as they were, they couldn't touch each other. Not like they wanted to. Kristin's heart flip flopped like a fish out of water every time Derrick shifted in his seat, and Derrick's pulse raced every time Kristin brushed a strand of hair out of her face. Kristin made a half-hearted joke about joining the mile-high club, but when she looked in the bathroom she doubted there was enough room for anything like that.
When the plane finally landed, Kristin and Derrick jumped in a cab and had the driver take them to the closest wedding chapel he knew. "Wait! I don't have a dress!"
The driver didn't bat an eye. "I know a place," he said, and skidded them to a stop in front of a small dress boutique far off the strip.
"Wait here, you can't see it before the wedding," she said, jumping out of the cab.
"The wedding's now."
"Shut up and kiss me." She grabbed Derrick's collar and pushed her lips hard against his. Derrick watched with a thundering heart as she wiggled her salacious body into the store. She was inside 10 minutes before exiting in white heels with a knee length coat covering the majority of her dress. All he could see were what looked like little puffs of lace peeking out from under the coat.
The driver dropped them off at A Little White Wedding Chapel. "Want me to wait?" he asked. Derrick decided that was probably a good idea. They had a limited amount of time here, and he didn't want to waste it waiting for cabs.
Inside, the chapel was simple but cute. White walls, white pews, white curtains. It looked very clean. Then Elvis stepped out from the back in a gold suit and sunglasses. "Let's do this," he said and swiveled his hips.
Derrick couldn't believe how lucky he was. After thirteen years, cheap, meaningless women, he was finally marrying the one. His mate.
"Wait!" Kristin said, and ran from the room. Elvis started singing "Love Me Tender" and Kristin appeared in the doorway. Derrick's jaw dropped. Her dress stopped at her knees. It was layer upon layer of the most delicate silk Derrick had ever seen. It draped over her body, accentuating the voluptuous curves of her hips and rounding her waist into something so sensual it was almost lewd.
Thin strands of gold fiber were woven around the hem and bust, showing off her already large chest. Derrick's heart smashed against his ribcage, exploding into a thousand pieces as she slowly walked towards him. His hand almost crushed hers as the singing stopped and they began to recite their vows. Kristin felt the heat radiating off Derrick's skin even in the air-conditioned chapel. She was afraid if he held her hand too long, he might fry her like an egg.
"You can kiss the bride now," Elvis said five minutes later. She couldn't believe it was all over. It went too fast. A photographer had snapped some photos. Elvis had married them. She'd blinked and missed her own wedding. She was on the verge of a panic attack when Derrick's lips met hers. Any lingering misgivings melted away. Their bodies connected at a primal level that was too intense to go unnoticed. Elvis took his sunglasses off and watched with wide eyes as the heat from their bodies became a physical part of the air around them, spitting sparks onto the curtains and singeing them.
"Never seen that before," Elvis murmured.
It was like their bodies knew they'd just been married and were desperate to explore this new world they'd just entered into together. Elvis handed them a card, slipping his sunglasses back over his eyes. "You give that to the clerk at Caesar's Palace and you'll get a discount."
"Thanks," Derrick said, and pulled Kristin along so fast she almost missed grabbing their paperwork.
Chapter 12
At Caesar's, Derrick asked for the best room they had. "The best room would be the penthouse," the clerk said, sounding snotty.
"Sounds good." Derrick said.
"The penthouse occupies the majority of the top floor and is $10,000 per night." The clerk clearly did not recognize Derrick. He stared at Derrick, waiting for a reaction that did not come. Derrick handed him a credit card and then his attitude seemed to change.
"Can I send anything up to you Sir? Champagne? Chocolates? Flowers?"
"All of it," Derrick said.
The clerk beamed and made a note. Kristin wondered if they worked on commission.
The room was beautiful, almost to the point of being gaudy, but it was fun. Gold pillars ran from floor to ceiling in several places. White and gold curtains hung everywhere. And in the center of the room was a giant 4 pillar bed dressed with gold satin sheets and billowing silk curtains above the mattress that almost matched her dress. The room was lit, but barely. The effect was splashes of color that shined on the walls from the neon signs outside their window lined penthouse. It was like having Las Vegas inside your bedroom.
Kristin grinned and ran to the bed, throwing herself on top of it and bouncing like a child. Her body moved like a boat on water, bobbing with the waves. Her breasts sailed up and down and her legs crossed each other as she kicked them in the air, oozing sexuality.
"Come and kiss me," she purred. Derrick knew that technically having sex the night before a big game was akin to cursing yourself with bad luck, but after all they'd been through, he didn't believe in bad luck anymore. Only good luck. And Kristin was his good luck charm. Being with her now could only ensure victory for him tomorrow.
He went to the bed and she slid forward, wrapping her legs around him as he stood at the edge of the mattress, feet still on the floor. Everything they'd said to each other, all the kisses and caresses since they'd first met over a decade ago, had led to this moment.
Kristin had thirsted for this hour since seeing Derrick in the locker room her first day with the Peregrines. His feet were planted firmly on the floor, but she thought she could fix that. She hugged his legs with hers, sliding one up and down him like a snake. Then she squeezed just behind his knees and he buckled onto the bed, falling on top of her with a huge grin.
"Fancy seeing you here," she giggled. Her legs curled over his ass and she nuzzled her face against his neck, inhaling deeply. His scent seemed to change at different times of day. Right now he smelled like smoke and cinnamon. She'd have her whole life to get to know the different moods of his fragrance.
Derrick watched her move under him, captivated by the sensuous and suggestive ways she posed herself. She liked to tease, raising her head to kiss him then pulling back before their lips could touch. He restrained himself from going too fast. With the other women he'd been with, his goal had always been to climax. With Kristin, he wanted to explore every inch of her, savor every moment. He wanted her to know his mind along with his actions. He wanted her to feel his love reflected in his movements, not just the lust. The lust was a given.
He bent his head to her ear and began to nibble. Her b
ody spasmed under him. Her legs wrapped tighter around his backside. The dress she wore was sheer enough at the top that he could see her bra peeking through, all lace and satin. Her breasts were perfect, and he longed to feel their luscious curves as his hands ran over her.
The hunger he felt for her raged inside him. He went from nibbling to biting. Her neck was smooth and creamy, her skin blushed as he ran his hand along her neck and down to her breast. Her body was precious to him. He started at her neck, lapping at it like a cat at a saucer of milk. The familiar itch of the panther prickled at the nape of his neck. The passion he felt for Kristin ignited a fury in him that he was afraid he wouldn't be able to control. He pulled away.
"What are you stopping for?" she asked, breathless. He sat back on his knees. She pulled herself out from under him and looked into his face.
"I'm finding it hard to control myself around you." She saw veins pulsing under his golden skin and the rapid movement of his chest as it rose and fell too fast to count. "What if I hurt you?" he asked.
"Would you?" Her voice was soft and her hand reached with tentative fingers to caress his face.
"No."
"Then don't try to control yourself. I want you to let go."
She stood from the bed and one hand reached behind her back. Derrick heard the zipper and a second later her dress was on the floor. Her polished skin was lustrous in the Vegas lights that poured in through their open windows, tinting her skin shades of red and gold. Her bra was pale pink with cream colored lace around the edges. It matched her panties. Derrick barely had time to take her in before her hands slipped behind her back again and her breasts tumbled out, round and firm with perfect pink nubs that danced in the neon lights of their room.
She crossed the floor to him and put one knee on either side of his body as she crawled back onto the bed. Derrick reached out and began to stroke the dark pink nipples that protruded from her chest. She moaned and tilted her head back. Her hair fell over her shoulders in long waves and he touched its softness, like silk, before leaning into her and allowing his tongue to find the soft pink pebbles on her chest.
Bears of Burden: WYATT Page 82
